Post by Lone Dancer on Sept 10, 2021 18:13:57 GMT
Fire.
Pain. Searing, burning. Ash and smoke.
Everywhere.
Her scales fractured slightly, burnt skin cracked from the overwhelming heat. But worse than her own pain were the screams. Pleas, cries, shouts for a mercy that would only be found in death. Red and black dragons descended from the skies, from the clogging smoke, like embers and wraiths. From their maws came roaring flame, directed towards the village below. A dragon tried to crawl out from a burning hut, half collapsed. In their claws the ashen remains of a little one. Orii tried to reach out, but the hut collapsed fully upon the mother. Other villagers tried to run, their faces unable to be focused upon.
She wanted to scream herself, but she couldn't. Her throat seared, more smoke than air within her lungs. Her hands smoldered, reduced down to roasted bone. She could still move their skeletal remains. Her heart lurched as the screams began to quiet one by one, till there was only the noise of the crackling flames, which sounded more like cruel sadistic laughter.
A nightwing landed in front of her, eyes uncaring, mouth open, throat orange. Orii closed her eyes, waiting for the end. And then opened them when the end didn't come. A rose draktuar stood in front of her, stoic, wings raised in a defensive manner, shielding Orii from the flames. Despite the roaring fire blasted with fury at her back and raised wings, Haru did not burn. She opened her mouth, but what came out sounded less like words, the noises muffled as if speaking underwater.
Haru shook her head, and using her crescent moon staff, grabbed Orii by the neck, and dragged her somewhere. With a gasp, Orii found herself back on dewy grass, the sun cheerful overhead, nary a cloud in the sky. She felt all over herself, her mind not quite yet caught up with the aspect of she was safe now.
She wasn't burning, her scales and skin intact. She could breath, and her hands were whole. Her breaths were shaky, shuddering. It felt so real, even more so than any other vision. All she could feel was was steadying hand upon her shoulder as she shook in place, wanting to wrap her wings around herself and hide away from the cruel nightmares of the world.
It was just a vision. You are safe, you are not burning.
Haru's voice echoed within her mind. Yet despite it, she could still see the skeletal version of hands, the burnt off skin. She could still hear the roaring fire, and the endless screams. The flames left a scar on her. Not on her body, but on her soul, and on her mind. She was burning, she was sure of it.
It does you no good to worry. Sleep.
With that statement, it felt like soothing waves washed over her, and she fell into dreamless slumber as Haru kept watch.
Pain. Searing, burning. Ash and smoke.
Everywhere.
Her scales fractured slightly, burnt skin cracked from the overwhelming heat. But worse than her own pain were the screams. Pleas, cries, shouts for a mercy that would only be found in death. Red and black dragons descended from the skies, from the clogging smoke, like embers and wraiths. From their maws came roaring flame, directed towards the village below. A dragon tried to crawl out from a burning hut, half collapsed. In their claws the ashen remains of a little one. Orii tried to reach out, but the hut collapsed fully upon the mother. Other villagers tried to run, their faces unable to be focused upon.
She wanted to scream herself, but she couldn't. Her throat seared, more smoke than air within her lungs. Her hands smoldered, reduced down to roasted bone. She could still move their skeletal remains. Her heart lurched as the screams began to quiet one by one, till there was only the noise of the crackling flames, which sounded more like cruel sadistic laughter.
A nightwing landed in front of her, eyes uncaring, mouth open, throat orange. Orii closed her eyes, waiting for the end. And then opened them when the end didn't come. A rose draktuar stood in front of her, stoic, wings raised in a defensive manner, shielding Orii from the flames. Despite the roaring fire blasted with fury at her back and raised wings, Haru did not burn. She opened her mouth, but what came out sounded less like words, the noises muffled as if speaking underwater.
Haru shook her head, and using her crescent moon staff, grabbed Orii by the neck, and dragged her somewhere. With a gasp, Orii found herself back on dewy grass, the sun cheerful overhead, nary a cloud in the sky. She felt all over herself, her mind not quite yet caught up with the aspect of she was safe now.
She wasn't burning, her scales and skin intact. She could breath, and her hands were whole. Her breaths were shaky, shuddering. It felt so real, even more so than any other vision. All she could feel was was steadying hand upon her shoulder as she shook in place, wanting to wrap her wings around herself and hide away from the cruel nightmares of the world.
It was just a vision. You are safe, you are not burning.
Haru's voice echoed within her mind. Yet despite it, she could still see the skeletal version of hands, the burnt off skin. She could still hear the roaring fire, and the endless screams. The flames left a scar on her. Not on her body, but on her soul, and on her mind. She was burning, she was sure of it.
It does you no good to worry. Sleep.
With that statement, it felt like soothing waves washed over her, and she fell into dreamless slumber as Haru kept watch.